


London

by kakkakerssi



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkakerssi/pseuds/kakkakerssi
Summary: Tech company AU.Charles Leclerc moves to London to meet new people and expand his horizons beyond the super yachts of Monaco. There he makes new friends and meets someone who has a profound effect on him.
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Pierre Gasly/Daniil Kvyat
Comments: 55
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [altissimozucca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/altissimozucca/gifts).

> For @altissimozucca who taught me that not everything has to be doom and gloom and that sometimes characters can have nice things happen to them.

“Tell me about yourself,” Carlos said warmly, sliding his chair across the open plan office to interrogate his new colleague. “I’m Carlos. It’s good to have you here; god knows we need all the help we can get, especially with Italian speakers. I’ve been on my own ever since Antonio left to go and work in stupid San Francisco.”

“Charles,” he replied, a little hesitant with pronouncing his name the English way. He was much more confident in French and Italian, but was determined to work on his English and get it up to the same standard. Charles had asked to work in the London office after all, rather than Milan or Paris. England was where he wanted to be, and so English would be the language he’d use. “What do you want to know?”

“ _ Everything _ ,” Carlos replied, grinning. He looked Charles up and down - messy brown hair, big blue eyes, large tortoiseshell glasses, plaid shirt, black skinny jeans. Carlos hoped there was more to his personality than his typical tech company appearance. “Family?”

“Yes,” Charles said, reeling off the answer like he was back in school learning basic English again. “I have two brothers. I’m the middle child. I’m close with my Mother.”

“What about your Father?”

“He’s dead,” Charles replied, rolling his eyes when Carlos flinched. “Don’t feel bad; you didn’t know him.”

“Girlfriend?”

“How many questions are you going to ask me?” Charles laughed nervously. “It’s only my first day; I’ve only been here for an hour.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Carlos said, sitting back in his chair. “I’ll get you added to the Slack channels. We have one for Second Line Support and there’s another one for new starters. I’ll have Pierre add you to the group for Frenchies-”

“-I’m not French,” Charles protested, and Carlos shot forward on his chair again, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“A name like  _ Charles _ and an accent like that, and you’re here to speak French and Italian and you’re not French?” Carlos asked, looking Charles up and down. “Where are you from? Belgium? Senegal?”

“Monaco, actually,” Charles replied quietly. 

“What the hell is a rich boy like you doing working in a place like this?” Carlos teased, though he was genuinely curious.

Charles shifted awkwardly in his chair and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you interrogate every new starter like this?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Carlos apologised. “I can’t help it. I just excited when I meet new people. I’ve always been nosey. You don’t have to tell me anything. I’ll still introduce you to Pierre, though, he’s really good with newbies. Can I assume you haven’t been in London long?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll have Pierre add you to the channel for people new to the city. You’ll get some great recommendations. I can take you out to lunch today as well if you want. I normally meet up with Lando at one o’clock,” Carlos offered, rolling his chair back slightly.

“Lando?” Charles checked. “Is that the guy from Internal IT who gave me my laptop this morning?” 

Carlos nodded. “He’s also my boyfriend. You’re welcome to join us for lunch. We normally go for Japanese on Monday; there’s a great sushi place near here but Lando still insists on the chicken curry, I swear one of these days he will learn to eat like an actual adult.”

Charles smiled as he watched Carlos slide his chair back to his own desk, still ranting under his breath. As first impressions went, Carlos definitely seemed chatty, if a little nosey. Still, he was friendly and Charles appreciated having someone to talk to. It was intimidating moving to another country on your own, but Charles was excited. He’d already worked at the company for a year, on the first line support team in Nice. Now he had some confidence, he was ready to take on second line support, and his boss had supported his transfer to the London office.

Charles turned his attention back to his laptop and a few minutes later a meeting invitation appeared from Pierre, titled ‘Bienvenue á Londres.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets Max

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typed this on my phone so apologies if it’s a mess!

As the days went past, Charles settled into his new environment. Carlos was a joy to be around and his boyfriend Lando seemed sweet. Charles made sure not to have lunch with them every day; he was starting to feel like a third wheel. He’d joined Pierre and Esteban a few times for lunch, enjoying the familiar comfort of speaking his Mother tongue. Pierre worked as a designer, spending his days running workshops and drawing on the walls. Esteban worked in Sales and had the ego to go with that; Charles thought a lot of his charm was fake, but he was harmless enough and he had fun stories to share.

Charles enjoyed the look he got from Carlos when he joined the LGBT+ channel on Slack. A look that said  _ I knew it.  _ Charles managed to put a face to a few of the names in the channel but not all. There was one name that kept appearing who Charles hadn’t met yet - Max Verstappen. Charles enjoyed the comments and pictures he shared in the group but was too shy to ask Carlos about him. His profile just said he was an Account Manager.

The door to the Support office burst open and in walked a broad-shouldered brunette. “Italiano?” he asked, glancing around the room for someone who could help him. “Parlo Italiano?”

Seeing that Carlos was already on the phone, Charles realises he would have to help the handsome stranger. Charles raised a hand and waved him over. “Si, parlo Italiano.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he laughed, approaching Charles’s desk. It was covered in post it’s, scraps of paper, and scribbled on printed copies of emails, and there was no empty spot to perch. The stranger crouched down next to Charles and smiled up at him. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Max.”

“Charles. Nice to meet you,” Charles said, shaking Max’s hand and offering him a smile. “Do you need an Italian speaker?”

Max nodded. “ _ Desperately _ ,” he replied. “I need you to phone a client of mine and convince her that we love her. I got a ticket escalated to me this morning and I think it got lost somewhere because nobody has updated it in weeks and now the client is pissed. I need you to phone her and convince her that we haven’t forgotten her and that we’re working on her ticket right now.”

“Sure, what’s the ticket number?”

“It would help if I knew that, right?” Max laughed, standing up. He fished his iPhone out of his pocket and opened his email app, scrolling through until he found the last notification. “74656.”

Charles typed the number into his software and pulled up the ticket, trying not to tense when he felt Max’s hand on his shoulder as he leaned over him to look at his screen as well. He smelt intoxicating and Charles struggled to read the ticket as he breathed Max in. Blinking several times, Charles forced himself to focus and he found the last update on the ticket. Max Verstappen had added an internal comment 30 minutes ago talking about the escalation. The Max standing over him was the same Max from the Slack channel.

Charles scrolled up to the top of the ticket and quickly read the customer’s problem. He clicked the customer’s phone number and adjusted his headset back over his ears as the call connected.

Max squeezes Charles’s shoulder and then took a big step backwards, letting him do his work and hoping he was a magician. Max loved the sound of the Italian language and wished he could speak more of it himself. He watched as Charles smiled his way through the phone call, giggling every now and then and telling the customer how delightful she was.

The call ended and Charles pulled his headset off, glancing up at Max. “You’re right, she was pissed. I talked her down though and she’s saving a bottle of wine for me; apparently you can pick it up next time you’re in Rome.”

“You’re amazing,” Max beamed, squeezing both of Charles’s shoulders. “I could kiss you. Thank you so much for this, Charles. I owe you big time. Who’s your manager?”

“Sebastian,” Charles replied, gesturing over time the desk in the corner where Sebastian was typing on his computer.

“Hey Seb!” Max called over the desk. “This new guy Charles, he’s good. You should keep him!”

“Thanks!”

Max smiled widely at Charles before patting his shoulder. “I’ve got to go. Thanks again for this, I really appreciate it.”

“Sure, no problem,” Charles said politely, watching as Max flitted out of the room. Charles typed an update into the software and saved his changes, allowing himself a few moments to daydream about sharing a bottle of wine with Max before he turned his attention back to his work.

“Don’t let the sales guys fool you,” Carlos said, leaning over the desk. His phone call had ended now and he’d seen Max in the office. “They only come here when they want something, and it’s their job to be friendly.”

“Yeah, of course,” Charles replied, fidgeting in his seat. Max had seemed sincere in his interaction, but maybe Carlos was right and it was just an act. The account managers radiated positivity but Charles supposed that they had to if they were to be good at their jobs. Pushing Max to the back of his mind, Charles turned his focus back to his work; he had a long list of tickets to update.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany.

“Dany, can you take a look at this for me?” George begged, turning his monitor so Daniil could see it as well. “The test keeps failing and I don’t know if it’s because of the test or if it’s because of my code, but I’m about ready to defenestrate my laptop.”

“Defenestrate?” Daniil asked, a confused expression on his face as he slid his chair over to George’s desk to get a closer look at his code. 

“Yeah, you know, it means ‘to throw out of a window’,” George laughed, sitting back in his chair and dragging his hands through his hair. “I don’t know if it’ll fix my code but it’ll certainly make me feel better.”

“Okay, but I’m not the one calling IT to explain why your laptop is in three hundred pieces,” Daniil replied, squinting at George’s monitor.

“It’s fine,” George said, sitting up straighter. “I’m sure Alex would sort me out a new one, no fuss. I should probably ask him for some more RAM anyway; my laptop has been slow lately.”

“You could just try not running every single program at once,” Daniil suggested, deleting two lines of George’s code and typing two new lines. “Try it now.”

George clicked the mouse and reran the code and this time there was no error. “Dany, you may not speak much, but you are a  _ genius _ ,” George said, offering his colleague a warm smile. “Thank you so much for this.”

“No problem,” Daniil replied, sliding his chair back to his own desk. Now that his concentration was broken, he wanted a longer distraction so he grabbed his phone and opened instagram. Thanks to the algorithms that only showed you content it thought you would like, the first post Daniil saw was from Pierre - a selfie he’d taken last night in front of the London Eye whilst out on a run. Daniil double-tapped the photo and smiled when an animated heart appeared over Pierre’s face.

“When are you going to tell him you’re in love with him?” George asked playfully, startling Daniil who quickly locked his phone.

“I’m not in love with him,” Daniil protested, turning his phone over so it was screen-down on his desk. 

“He doesn’t even know you like him, does he?” George asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Do you want me to tell him?”

“Absolutely not,” Daniil replied coldly. “Please, let it go.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” George replied gently. “I won’t get involved in your business; you’re a grown man. Just, don’t leave it too long, okay? A guy like Pierre, if he’s not already seeing someone, won’t be single for long.”

\---

Daniil washed up his plate from dinner, dried it, and put it back in the cupboard. He lived in a studio apartment and it was always spotless. He didn’t have many belongings with him, was mostly a minimalist, and tidying up after dinner took seconds.

Daniil discarded his company-branded hoodie on top of the laundry basket and swapped his black jeans for a pair of sweatpants. He then carefully lifted his guitar off of its stand and sat down on his bed. After checking the guitar was in tune, Daniil opened instagram on his phone, started a new live story and set his phone down on the stand on his bedside table.

It was the same routine every night. Daniil played his guitar for half an hour, mostly with his eyes closed but sometimes making eye contact with his phone camera, occasionally managing a smile. He never sang, he never spoke other than to say ‘goodnight, everyone’ even though his live streams only ever had an audience of one. 

Across London, Pierre sat alone in his studio apartment. Unlike Daniil, Pierre’s apartment was a mess; an organised mess, but still a mess. There were half finished paintings and sketchbooks overflowing with collages and sketches. Pierre had originally wanted to go to art school but his parents convinced him there weren’t enough career opportunities for being an artist. Instead, Pierre combined his love of creativity with his fascination for psychology and got a degree in user experience design. 

Despite being one of the livelier members of the company’s social committee, always doing his best to help new people get settled, Pierre was deeply lonely. Whether it was because he didn’t understand people or didn’t let anyone get past his carefully-constructed brick wall, every night he went home alone. He craved connection, but didn’t allow himself to have it, so instead of asking Daniil out on a date, Pierre sat alone in his apartment and watched him on instagram. 

Pierre liked every post that Daniil shared on the social network; they were mostly clips of him playing guitar, or photos of landmarks and sunsets. Daniil got a few comments on his posts, most of them were in Russian, but Pierre never left a comment. He only ever observed. Daniil did the same to him; he always liked Pierre’s posts, always filled his need for attention, but never left a comment.

Pierre was sure that Daniil didn’t think he was stalking him; they’d never spoken at work other than a polite ‘hello’ when passing in a corridor. Daniil normally had his headphones on anyway, indicating he didn’t want to be disturbed. Pierre wondered how many other people watched Daniil’s regular live streams and whether Daniil had hundreds of viewers or just a few.

Pierre typed away on his laptop, responding to half a dozen work emails, three meeting requests, nine questions about his next workshop, a text message about ‘strategy’ from his Head of Product, two separate group chats about two separate design meet ups, and one work group chat about organising drinks on Friday night. He glanced up only when Daniil’s guitar fell silent and he watched as Daniil stared at his instrument for a few moments before smiling at the camera. “Goodnight, everyone,” Daniil said softly, ending his live stream.

“Goodnight, Daniil,” Pierre replied, closing instagram on his phone and opening another chat app.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I got across how lonely Pierre feels. :(


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has a fun night out.

Charles gripped the handrail on the escalator, feeling a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He reached up with his free hand and adjusted his black bandana, catching his reflection for a moment in the wall of the tunnel. Pierre had warned him to wear something he could sweat in so he’d gone for an oversized t-shirt with a large v-neck and his tightest pair of black jeans.

Charles headed out of the Underground station, squinting slightly at the signs because he’d left his glasses at home. After finding the right direction for where Pierre had told him they’d be meeting, Charles picked up his pace, not wanting to be late. He was excited to join his colleagues for a night out at a club, and he was excited that Max would be there too.

“Charles!” Pierre waved at Charles and hugged him when he got close enough. “You look great.”

“I look underdressed,” Charles replied, looking Pierre up and down and making a mental note to find a tutorial on youtube on glittery eye make up. Maybe Pierre would have advice too on where to go shopping for clothes. Charles wasn’t sure he’d be able to balance in heels but Pierre seemed to be managing just fine.

“You look  _ great _ ,” Pierre said, giving Charles a reassuring smile. “Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Yes, yes,” Charles grinned, shrugging Pierre off. “Don’t take drugs, don’t start any fights, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and don’t go home with anyone without telling you first.”

“Exactly,” Pierre said, smiling back at Charles from behind his sparkly blue makeup. “It’s your first big night out in London; we’ve got to keep you safe.”

“I’m not a child,” Charles protested.

“I know,” Pierre replied, “but you’re from a small country, you’ve probably never been in an environment with this many queers before. Besides, that hot accent of yours could get you in a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise,” Charles grinned, drawing a cross over his chest with his fingers. 

Pierre took Charles inside the club and got him a drink which Charles drank too quickly before insisting he wanted to go dancing. Pierre stood on the balcony and watched the mass of bodies on the dance floor beneath him. He spotted Charles a few times, hands up in the air as he sang at the top of his lungs, and Pierre thought back to his first time out in London. It had been a messier night, with Pierre ending up in the emergency room having stitches at the end of it.

Pierre fished his phone out of his pocket and took a selfie, spending several minutes tweaking it and upping the saturation in the blues to bring out his eyes. He shared the photo on instagram and then checked his timeline; there was a new post from Daniil. He’d shared a video clip of him playing the guitar with the caption ‘quiet night in’ and Pierre wished he could hear the video over the loud music in the club. Nevertheless, Pierre double-tapped the video and smiled at the heart animation before pocketing his phone.

Pierre turned his attention back to the dancefloor and couldn’t help but smile when someone approached him, a thick Texan accent in his ear. “Say, what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?”

“Hi Daniel,” Pierre said, greeting his colleague with a kiss on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming or not.”

“I wasn’t sure either,” Daniel replied, his accent returning to normal. “Who else is here?”

“Alex and George, but they’re probably already fucking somewhere,” Pierre mused, “Max is down there somewhere, the new guy Charles is here too. I saw Lance earlier but he’s ignoring me like always, doesn’t want his Daddy to find out he’s queer, doesn’t want to embarass the CEO of the company.”

Daniel grinned and bowed slightly, holding his hand out to Pierre. “Would you like to dance, Mademoiselle?” 

Pierre rolled his eyes and accepted Daniel’s hand. “I would,” he said, following him down the stairs to the dancefloor. Pierre enjoyed spending time with Daniel; he was relentlessly positive and very open. There was never any intention behind his outrageous flirting; everyone knew he was happily married to a lanky Frenchman who worked in banking and  _ hated  _ parties.

Across the dancefloor, Charles had bumped into Max. They’d danced together before Max dragged Charles away for shots. When they returned to the dance floor, Charles found himself intoxicated both on the alcohol and on Max. Charles wasn’t sure if he initiated the kiss or if Max did, but a few minutes later when Max purred ‘let’s get out of here,’ into his ear, Charles nodded in agreement.

Max took Charles by the hand and led him off the dancefloor, over to the stairs to exit.

“Wait!” Charles shouted, stopping on the spot and tugging on Max’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked, turning back to Charles. He cupped Charles’s face in his hands and kissed him again. “You can trust me; I’ll take good care of you.”

“I have to tell Pierre we’re leaving.”

“You don’t have to tell Pierre  _ anything _ ,” Max protested. “You’re not a child.” He traced his fingers down Charles’s sides and grinned when Charles shivered. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Just wait a second,” Charles said, prying himself free from Max’s grip and heading back out onto the dance floor. He felt Max grip his hand but Charles pulled him through the group of people, finding Pierre still dancing with Daniel.

Charles gripped Pierre’s shoulder and leant in close to his ear, shouting over the loud music. “I’m going home with Max.”

Pierre glanced at Charles and then at Max, recognising the look in Max’s eyes as one he’d seen many times before. Not wanting Charles to be just another notch in Max’s bed post but also accepting that he wasn’t Charles’s Mother, Pierre nodded. “Have fun!”

Charles flashed Pierre a big smile and then led Max out of the club. The streets of London felt eerily quiet afterwards but once Charles realised he wasn’t deaf, he gripped Max’s hand tighter and followed him to the Underground station. “Are we going back to your place?”

“Yes,” Max replied, and Charles felt almost giddy with excitement. The two of them hurried through the streets to the Underground station and Charles almost fell down the stairs to the platform. Max caught him and Charles thanked him. The two of them boarded the train in the end carriage and Max crowded Charles up against the seat rest, pinning him with his hips and kissing him.

Charles kissed back hungrily, stumbling off the train after Max when they got to Max’s stop. Charles concentrated hard on not tripping up the stairs and the rest of the walk to Max’s apartment was a blur. The two of them stumbled inside and Charles vaguely noticed Max muttering something about a room-mate before he was dragged into Max’s room.

“You’re noisy, aren’t you?” Max laughed as Charles moaned loudly, arching beneath him. Max shoved Charles’s t-shirt up over his shoulders, trapping his arms above his head for a few moments and tickling him, grinning at the  _ shriek  _ from Charles before he freed him from the fabric.

“I can be noisy,” Charles choked out. “Is that a problem? Your room-mate-”

“He won’t care,” Max replied, stripping himself before grabbing Charles through his jeans. “You make as much noise as you want. Fuck, you’re so hot.”

\---

Charles peered at his face in the mirror, trying his best to smooth out his hair against his face. He’d put on last night’s clothes, feeling like his skin was crawling and he just wanted to go home and shower. Max had wished him a good weekend before rolling over and going back to sleep, and Charles quietly made his way out of Max’s room.

“I didn’t realise you were such a screamer,” came a voice from over the sofa and Charles hesitated, his heart jumping up into his throat.

“Lando?” Charles asked quietly, approaching the sofa and peering over the top of it where Lando was sprawled out on his back, playing on his phone. “I didn’t know you were Max’s room-mate.”

“I’m not,” Lando shrugged, sitting up on the sofa when he saw Carlos approach with a large plate of cooked breakfast.

“Hi Charles,” Carlos said distantly, handing Lando a knife and fork to go with his breakfast. “Did you want some breakfast?”

Charles frowned, feeling nauseous. By offering him breakfast, Carlos was already kinder than Max had been. The sex was fun but Max hadn’t seemed that interested in cuddling afterwards and Charles frowned more, feeling bile in the back of his throat. “No thank you,” he said politely. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at work.”


	5. "Fuck everybody"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre and Charles have a night out. It doesn't go well.

Pierre walked through the streets of London, his ankles aching from a night of dancing in his heels. He tapped away at his phone, responding to comments on his latest instagram post; a selfie of him and Charles ready for their night out. Pierre had his usual sparkly blue eye make up and he’d done Charles up similarly but in gold, starred sequins across his temples.

To take Charles’s mind off Max for a while, Pierre had taken him shopping. Charles had picked up a few new outfits to replace his simple black ‘only gay in the village’ clothes he’d brought with him from Monaco and the two of them had gone out clubbing together. A big night of singing, dancing and a few cocktails had meant Pierre had left Charles at the Underground station with a big smile on his face.

Pierre responded to his last comment and a WhatsApp notification from Charles appeared at the top of his phone.  _ You still awake?  _

_ Yes _ , Pierre replied. He was still a ten minute walk from his apartment and he considered taking his shoes off and carrying them instead.  _ You okay? _

_ I think I need to go to the hospital. _

Pierre tapped his phone and called Charles, sitting down at a bus stop while he waited for the call to connect. When Charles answered, Pierre didn’t give him a chance to even say hello. “Charles, what the hell happened? Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” Charles replied, his voice quiet like he was trying not to be overheard.

“Share your location with me,” Pierre said, putting the call on speakerphone so he could use his screen and see the map. “Okay, I can see you. Let me share my live location with you. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

“I’ll meet you outside,” Charles said, whimpering a ‘thank you’ before ending the call.

Twenty minutes later, Pierre rounded the corner into Charles’s street and saw a figure in the shadows. When Pierre got closer, he saw that it was Charles resting against the brick wall. He had his glasses on now, and an oversized zip-up black hoodie that covered his skimpier clothing underneath, the hood pulled up over his head.

“Fuck, what happened?” Pierre said, looking Charles up and down. His cheek was swollen, his glittery makeup mixed with blood from a gash to his head where someone had hit him. Charles was cradling his left arm over his chest as well, and he struggled to make eye contact with Pierre.

“My housemate,” Charles replied, frowning and then wincing at the pain it caused. “I got home; he was gaming. He didn’t like the fact I’m gay. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No, don’t apologise, you did exactly the right thing,” Pierre said, wrapping an arm around Charles’s shoulder. “Come on, the hospital is close by. You poor thing, we’ll get you cleaned up. You’ll probably need stitches in that pretty face of yours.”

The two of them walked in silence for a few minutes before Charles sighed, curling into Pierre slightly. “Maybe I should just go back home. Maybe London is too much for me.”

Pierre stopped and turned to face Charles, delicately cupping Charles’s jaw in both his hands. “Listen to me, Charles,” he said softly. “London is not too much for you. You are a bright, shining star in this awful city. If anything, it’s London that cannot handle  _ you _ . Fuck Max, fuck your housemate, fuck everybody that doesn’t see how great you are.”

Pierre sat with Charles while the doctors and nurses treated him. While the gash in his forehead was treated without stitches, x-rays confirmed Charles’s arm was broken and he was put in a cast. It was daylight before he was allowed to go home and Pierre stayed awake the whole time, cheering Charles up with stories from his life.

“You’re not seriously going back home, are you?” Pierre asked as they left the hospital.

“I mean, it’s where I live, so…”

“Jesus, Charles, you can’t go back there,” Pierre said, frowning. “After what your room-mate did, you should be going to the police station. He broke your fucking arm; there’s no way I can let you go and sleep in the same house as him. What if he attacks you again?”

“Pierre,” Charles replied, protest in his voice. “I’m not a child.”

“Charles!” Pierre hissed, reaching out and grabbing Charles by both his shoulders. “I don’t think you’re a child. Please stop thinking that. I’m not trying to be some kind of big brother figure to you. I’m just trying to be a decent human being, and decent human beings don’t let their friends sleep in dangerous places. You’ve got to move out.”

Charles nodded, shrugging away from Pierre’s grip. He gazed down at his cast, tracing his fingers over the dark blue material. “Will you help me find a hotel then?”

“At seven o’clock on a Sunday morning? Impossible,” Pierre replied, shaking his head. “You can come and stay with me.”

“I thought you just lived in a studio flat?” Charles asked. “Is there space?”

“There’s space,” Pierre replied, smiling. “It’ll be nice to have some company for a few days until we can find you somewhere safer. Now come on, my feet are fucking killing me in these heels and I don’t know about you, but I’m  _ starving _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the angstiest chapter, I promise. Everything from here on out is soft and romantic. Everyone gets a happy ending. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniil and Pierre <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the soppiest, most romantic thing I've ever written. I hope it feels sincere.

Pierre adjusted his laptop bag on his shoulder as he walked into the development office. It was late on a Friday evening and he was looking for Daniil; Daniil hadn’t streamed on Instagram all week and Pierre was worried. He didn’t know much about Daniil, only that he played the guitar and liked taking photos of sunsets. He knew that Daniil was Russian but that was it - they weren’t in any of the same channels on Slack since Daniil left the ‘newbies’ channel a few months ago.

“He’s not here,” George said, pulling his headphones off of his head and glancing up at Pierre. “He literally just left. Is there anything I can help you with instead?”

“No, it’s okay,” Pierre replied politely. “I’ll grab him on Monday.”

“You’ll need to send him an email,” George pointed out. “He won’t be here on Monday. Today was his last day in the office; he’s flying back to Moscow tomorrow. He’ll be online on Monday though, it’s not like he’s leaving the company, he’s just going remote for a while.”

“He’s  _ what _ ?” Pierre asked, frowning. 

“If you really need him, you can probably still catch him,” George said, and Pierre was already halfway out the door. “He takes the Northern Line southbound!”

Pierre hurried out of the building and down the street to the Underground station, swiping his iPhone against the card reader to open the barriers. He pushed his way through the throng of commuters and found Daniil standing at the far end of the platform waiting for the next train to arrive.

Pierre reached out and gently grabbed Daniil’s shoulder before taking a small step backwards, feeling the breeze on his face from the approaching train.

Daniil turned around to face Pierre and pulled his headphones off, looking at Pierre inquisitively. He recognised Pierre, obviously, but had never spoken to him. Daniil had only ever watched Pierre from a distance.

“Don’t go back to Russia,” Pierre said as the train screeched to a halt behind Daniil.

“Give me a reason to stay.”

The doors to the train opened and Pierre stumbled as several commuters pushed past him to board. He opened his mouth to speak to Daniil but no sound came out. Daniil offered him a sad smile,  _ it’s okay _ , before turning and boarding the train.

“Wait!” Pierre boarded the train just as the doors closed and they crashed against his shoulders before bouncing back open, earning him groans from other people on the train and an angry  _ mind the closing doors!  _ from the tannoy.

Pierre pushed further into the carriage and the doors closed successfully this time. Pierre found himself pressed up against Daniil, the bag of a stranger digging into his back as he shuffled his feet to find a stable way to stand. Pierre reached up and grabbed the handrail, swaying as the train rocked down the tracks towards the next station.

Daniil met Pierre’s gaze and Pierre found his words. He licked his lips because his mouth felt dryer than a desert and he leant in closer to Daniil. “Stay with me.” He didn’t know if it was a good reason, but it was the only reason he had. Daniil couldn’t leave and fly 2,500 kilometres away; he just couldn’t.

The force of the train braking for the station knocked Pierre’s balance and he fell against Daniil, only making it upright again when the train came to a stop. The doors opened and Pierre followed Daniil onto the platform. He had tunnel vision and couldn’t see any of the other commuters; he only saw Daniil and Pierre smiled when Daniil’s gentle brown eyes met his.

Daniil led Pierre to the back of the platform; there was space between two benches and Daniil knocked Pierre up against the tiled wall, cupping Pierre’s face with his calloused fingers and kissing him.

Pierre closed his eyes and melted into Daniil’s embrace, reaching his hands up and gripping the thick fabric of Daniil’s company-branded hoodie. When Daniil broke the kiss, Pierre pulled away, feeling light-headed. “It’s Daniil, right?” he asked, pronouncing his name the French way.

“Dany is fine,” Daniil replied, tracing his fingers across Pierre’s jaw before pulling away completely. 

“My name is Pierre.”

“I know.”

Pierre found himself blushing and he adjusted his bag on his shoulder, suddenly aware again of how many other people were on the platform. “Do you want to go and get a drink or something?”

“Yes. Come with me.” Daniil reached out and took Pierre’s hand and Pierre felt light-headed again. He’d spoken to Daniil for less than a minute but already trusted him. He’d follow Daniil to any coffee shop in London and knew he’d be safe.

Five minutes from the station and the two of them were sitting in a booth at the back of a coffee shop, the owner of which seemed to recognise Daniil. They both dumped their bags on the floor under the table and Pierre shrugged his jacket off onto the padded bench next to him.

Pierre reached across the table and tentatively took Daniil’s hands in his, brushing his thumbs over Daniil’s knuckles. “I want to know everything about you,” he said, offering Daniil a warm smile. “I know you work as a developer. I know you play guitar every day on your instagram, until this week. What happened?”

“I was packing up my things,” Daniil replied, glancing down at their hands for a moment before lifting his gaze to Pierre’s kind blue eyes. “I’m flying back to Russia tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Daniil chewed on his lip for a moment before answering. “My Father is sick. I need to visit him before he dies.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Pierre said, gripping Daniil’s hands a little tighter.

“It’s okay,” Daniil replied, shrugging. “He’s an arsehole.”

Pierre smirked and sat back in his seat when the waitress approached their table. She had a short conversation with Daniil in Russian and then scribbled on her notepad before walking away.

“I ordered for both of us; I hope that’s okay,” Daniil said, reaching for Pierre’s hands again. “Proper coffee. Not the American shit and certainly not the English bullshit.”

“It’s fine,” Pierre replied warmly. “Please, tell me more about you? How long have you been in London?”

“Two years,” Daniil explained. “I have a cousin here. My hometown is Ufa, another four hours east of Moscow. I’m 28. I have no brothers or sisters.”

Pierre smirked again and rolled his eyes. “You talk like you’re taking a basic English oral exam. I want to know about  _ you _ . Why do you play guitar every day on instagram?”

Daniil shrugged and fidgeted in his seat. “Because you watch me,” he replied simply. “Tell me about  _ you _ ,” he added, switching to French. “We can talk in French as well, if you’d like. You shouldn’t have to translate your soul.”

“Your French is good,” Pierre said, his heart swelling. “What do you want to know about me?”

“Tell me how someone like you is still single.”

The waitress appeared with the two coffees and Pierre took a long sip of his before answering Daniil. “I did have someone,” he said, gazing into his black drink. “A fiancé, actually. He died.”

“What happened?” Daniil asked tentatively.

“He had a car accident,” Pierre replied, his eyes glazing over. “A drunk driver hit him. They were both killed instantly.” Pierre took another sip of his drink and blinked until his eyes were clear again. “I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, I didn’t think I’d have to learn how to  _ flirt  _ again, you know?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Pierre grinned widely, almost choking on his drink as he laughed. “Yes, yes I am,” he smirked. “I’m flirting with you by telling you about my dead boyfriend. Are you flirting with me too?”

“For sure,” Daniil replied playfully. “I can go into great detail about my Father’s illness, if you’d like?”

“Please don’t,” Pierre laughed, nudging Daniil’s leg under the table. 

“What’s going on with you and Charles?” Daniil asked, changing the subject. “I saw the photo on your instagram, all dressed up. You’re not dating?”

“Me and Charles? Oh, God, no,” Pierre replied. “He’s nice, but he’s really not my type. He had a one night stand with Max so obviously now he’s pining like a puppy, so I took him out to take his mind off it. He’s from a small place and never got to wear makeup before. I think I made him look okay.”

“You looked better; I like the blue,” Daniil said, cradling his coffee mug in his hands. “Who’s Max?”

“How can you not know who Max is? I swear he’s fucked every gay at work.”

“Not me,” Daniil replied, chewing on his lip.

“You’re not even in the Slack channel, are you?” Pierre asked curiously. “I always wondered about you. You kissed me though, so I guess that answers it. Max is an account manager. He’s also a heartbreaker.”

“How long have you been in London then?”

“I came here for University and never left,” Pierre explained. “Rouen is my hometown; there’s not a lot there for people like me. I never really liked Paris, so I came to London. I don’t think I’ll leave anytime soon either, no matter how much the government hates us immigrants.”

Pierre and Daniel talked for over two hours, getting through another coffee and a slice of cake before picking up the bill. Rush hour had finished the streets were much quieter as they made their way back towards the tube station.

“Just when I’m getting to know you, you’re leaving,” Pierre said sadly, taking Daniil’s hands and lacing their fingers together. “I should have spoken to you sooner.”

Daniil kissed Pierre’s forehead and then leant his forehead against Pierre’s. “Like I said, I have to see my Father.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“It depends on how long it takes him to die,” Daniil replied dryly. “I’ll probably stay for a couple of weeks after the funeral to help my Mother, and then I should come back. Will you still be here?”

“Of course,” Pierre said, tilting his head up and slowly kissing Daniil. “It would feel cruel to say that I hope your Father dies quickly.”

Daniil pulled his hands free and reached up, cupping Pierre’s face and kissing him again. “I understand,” he replied softly. “I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

“See you soon, Dany,” Pierre whispered, pulling away and giving Daniil a little wave as he turned away and headed into the station. Pierre lingered for a few moments, watching as Daniil disappeared down the escalator and then he pulled his phone out of his pocket to answer his four emails, nine whatsapp notifications, three instagram DMs, and a missed phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to make Charles happy in the next chapter.


End file.
